16 January 2018
Story #892
R. Linda:
Just when you think you've seen it all, you find that you haven't. Case in point, this prior weekend, I was invited to Cruella's place on the lake for an afternoon office party. Cruella usually has this excuse for mid-winter-after-the-holiday-stir-em'-up-for-enthusiastic-surge-into-the-New-Year in Boston at a restaurant on the Wharf. This is her way of saying thank you for last year's contributions to the news industry (making up all those fake stories is hard work! Yuk, yuk.), and here be to the coming new year that we all work even harder. These office gatherings go without a hitch and are nothing to write about, but this year, THIS YEAR R. Linda, it be something to write about.
First, the venue was changed from Boston to Lake Sunapee, New Hampshire. The lake be a large one located in the Lakes Region where it be surrounded by beautiful scenery. There is Mt. Sunapee and Mt. Kearsarge off in the distance, where skiing abounds at this time of year. The lake has a little village where, in the summer, there are many expensive old-fashioned wooden cruiser boats called Chris Crafts. There are homes nestled in the surrounding hills, some summer, some year-round, a condo or two placed in lovely settings, an overall picturesque place, and a house on the lake is a thing to covet. These are not log cabins or clapboard trailer-like cottages; no, these are big, magnificent abodes with lots of glass windows overlooking the lake and surrounding mountains. You get the idea.
Now, why Cruella decided to host this gathering at her summer home, I have notta clue. I be guessing she wanted a change of instead of a dinner with a band and dancing, she'd opt for an afternoon of getting us out in the fresh air with things to do, like for the ladies, there was a tour of a place that makes their own jellies, for the guys, clay pigeon shooting, for everyone tours of the lake on a mini yacht, and all afternoon luncheon foods galore, all you could stuff in your piehole. There were activities for the wee ones, pony riding on the trails, paintball fun and games next to the closed tennis court, and generally, all-day babysitting so the parents could enjoy themselves.
I thought she had thought of everything. Yes, I did, until our senior vice president of the company brought out his drone. He had one of those expensive models, an Inspire 2 Quadcopter with Cinema DNG, for a pricey $6,000 R. Linda! It has super capability of high tech clarity when recording images from above. It is his pride and joy, a Christmas present from his socialite wife! How fortunate, you might say, for him. Well, it was while it lasted. Oh, but I get ahead of meself. Let me take you to the afternoon entertainment.
That weekend, we had the January thaw, where the weather climbed from 12 degrees below to a balmy 60 F. Everything was melting, making quite a river of water all over the place. The drive up to the lake was not without its frustrations. The rivers had overflowed with ice jams and spread out onto the roads, becoming fast-running rivers. Many detours, but we all seemed to make it to Cruella's with no real problems. Getting back? Not so much, but that's a story for another time.
We had got the younger kiddos into a game of paintball and dropped the eldest off at the pony barn because he saw a friend of his, and they had opted for a woodland trail ride. Tonya and I went to the harbour for the lake tour, returning later to find that the kiddos had switched activities and were happily romping in the back of the house in a game of tag. I opted for the banquet table while Tonya had a nibble and went off with Maureen for the jelly-making. I was talked into skeet shooting by Patrick and Ms. Jaio, of all people. Here is where things got interesting.
Six men were already shooting, and we were chatting, awaiting our turns, when the big VP came out of the house with his drone and a few cronies. They were just below us, and Ms. Jaio instantly recognised (being a connoisseur of drones, of which she has a $250 model herself) the VP's new toy. Next, I found us standing with the cronies, listening to our VP explain the great feats his drone was capable of.
It was around that time Patrick was called his turn at shooting clay pigeons, and off he went while Ms. Jaio and I oohed and ahhed over the drone. The controls for the thing looked complicated to me but not to Ms. Jaio; she was all about what it could do, and the VP was quite impressed with her knowledge. Well, he started the thing up, and on his laptop, we could see the images the drone was transmitting as it slowly went up above the roof of the house (a three-storied affair). With quiet precision, it started down the hillside, and the images coming back picked up the pony ride on one of the trails. The kiddos and ponies were utterly unaware of the thing because it was pretty much silent. Then he careened it back up the hill and over the house so we could see the luncheon in full swing, up towards the tennis court where there were now adults playing paintball, and around towards us with our faces looking up as he brought the thing down to rest gently on the winter lawn.
Impressive? You betcha! It was so remarkable that Ms. Jaio was salivating over it. Her drippy mess excited the enthusiasm of the VP, who gave her the controls and told her to have a go. I've never seen Ms. Jaio smile like she did, from ear to ear and up her nose. She was in drone heaven! She was very adept at the controls; she had the drone higher than the VP, and she had it faster than the VP, and she had it whizz this way and that, and we were treated to a view of the surrounding real estate and even followed a car down the road as it made its way to the harbour.
I was asked if I wanted a turn, and well, of course, I couldn't let the opportunity pass; it all looked so easy.
After a bumpy start, I got the hang of it, but I had trouble controlling it. It reminded me of the small drone I had brought Guido for his birthday that his mother drove into the pine tree tops, never to be seen again. As that realisation struck, I got shakier with the expensive drone, realising THAT and who it belonged to. I said I would bring it down and let someone else have a turn, but as I did, it flew slightly to the left of the skeet shooters when suddenly there was a shot and the drone scattered into a thousand pieces out of the sky. A great shout went up from the skeet shooters with men pounding Patrick on the back that he "shot into smithereens whatever that was up there."
I stood as still as a statue watching this, me heart sinking to me stomach (an extraordinary feeling), me eyes wide open, and me mouth. We of the drone patrol just stood there in shocked silence, not able to speak, not able to move, but near tears! Well, Ms. Jaio was in tears. $6,000 blasted out of the sky with ME at the controls, no less! Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph!
I utter the word, "bejaysus" and gulped as I willed meself to look at the VP. The heat in his face was rising, turning red with anger that was clear to yours truly. He lifted his hand and placed it on me upper arm and through pursed lips he said, "Not your fault, Gabriel, you weren't near the skeets. The idiot who shot it down shot in our direction instead of the one he was supposed to. He did it on purpose, it looked."
Uh oh. Patrick, I thought, oh me God, Patrick, did you do that on purpose? Even worse, I thought I might have been too close to the skeet shooters, but the VP said not, and it was true; I could see it in slow-mo, Patrick turning at someone urging to bring down the UFO. I had the drone behind the shooters; I remembered vaguely two men turning and looking up, one pointing, someone saying something about "spying", and the other laughing. Patrick was loading up his rifle, and one of the men nudged him and pointed up; someone said something to Patrick, and with infuriating slowness, he lifted the gun in the direction of the drone and then BLAM! I could still see all the pieces of the drone scattering skyward and earthward, coming down in a shower in the woods to me left. I could feel that heart sinking feeling all over again and see the anger on the VP's face.
Would Patrick have a job after this? I was feeling guilty, though the VP and his cronies were right. I was never over the skeet field, but really? It was that I was at the controls. I thought to meself that Ms Jaio would never have allowed that; she'd have been quick to pick up on the rifle turning in our direction, and she would have whizzed that drone off in record time, probably bringing it back to clunk Patrick and instigators upside the head! But no, we are talking ME at the controls, slow-witted to react to something I wasn't sure I was seeing at first, but when it sank in . . . too fecking late!
Well, we did try to pick up the pieces, of which there were millions, as the VP and one crony walked with ill-purpose toward Patrick and the skeet shooters. We were picking up the debris field, and they were shouting and waving arms around. We of the debris field slowly drifted back inside and watched from the safety of the windows the argy-bargy going on. Patrick shouted, "I taught it were a pheasant!" And I thought that was a stupid idea. The thing wasn't as big or colourful as a pheasant. "Maibe a smulla burd lik a grous," Ms. Jaio whispered. Yes, a grouse would have been more like it or even a large starling, something smaller, Patrick. I tried to send extrasensory messages his way.
Well, the gist of this sad but bizarre tale is that Patrick still has his job and will pay the VP $4000 for the drone he destroyed. The other two who told him to do it will owe the VP $1000 each to make up the cost of a new one. As for me, I was patted on the back and told everything was settled; it wasn't me fault, blah, blah, blah. Which be a good thing because it wasn't really. Even Patrick reassured me the drone was to the left back over his shoulder, not in the skeet field. I want to tell the VP that it was a dumb move on his part to fly the thing on the side of the house where they were shooting clay pigeons. Even dumber was me at the controls. Anyway, that was me eventful and guilt-filled time at the annual Cruella shindig. After the drone affair at me own house, and now this, I doubt very much I will be investing in one or trying out someone else's. Patrick keeps a low profile and is working his tail off to pay the VP back. And poor Ms. Jaio, she hasn't been right ever since. She even made a small shrine in her cubicle with a picture of the Inspire 2 Quadcopter with Cinema DNG. It was up for about an hour before Cruella came over and asked me what that smell was she was smelling. I had sniffed the air, and yes, I had been aware of the odour. The only thing I knew full well was that it was Chinese incense that Ms. Jaio had been burning at her drone altar. Well, Cruella did short work of that, and the whole memorial was gone, but every time there was mention of a drone, Ms Jaio lost it, and the tears flowed. I have tried being sympathetic, but Cruella does her Cher impression any time Ms. Jaio starts to tear up, "Get over it!" she throws at her, and what choice has Ms. Jaio but to smarten up until Cruella's back is turned. Then she sits as if in a stupor, tears in her eyes. You'd think it was HER drone that was blasted to smithereens. Geez, techie types, I'll never understand them.
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
Story #892
R. Linda:
Just when you think you've seen it all, you find that you haven't. Case in point, this prior weekend, I was invited to Cruella's place on the lake for an afternoon office party. Cruella usually has this excuse for mid-winter-after-the-holiday-stir-em'-up-for-enthusiastic-surge-into-the-New-Year in Boston at a restaurant on the Wharf. This is her way of saying thank you for last year's contributions to the news industry (making up all those fake stories is hard work! Yuk, yuk.), and here be to the coming new year that we all work even harder. These office gatherings go without a hitch and are nothing to write about, but this year, THIS YEAR R. Linda, it be something to write about.
First, the venue was changed from Boston to Lake Sunapee, New Hampshire. The lake be a large one located in the Lakes Region where it be surrounded by beautiful scenery. There is Mt. Sunapee and Mt. Kearsarge off in the distance, where skiing abounds at this time of year. The lake has a little village where, in the summer, there are many expensive old-fashioned wooden cruiser boats called Chris Crafts. There are homes nestled in the surrounding hills, some summer, some year-round, a condo or two placed in lovely settings, an overall picturesque place, and a house on the lake is a thing to covet. These are not log cabins or clapboard trailer-like cottages; no, these are big, magnificent abodes with lots of glass windows overlooking the lake and surrounding mountains. You get the idea.
Now, why Cruella decided to host this gathering at her summer home, I have notta clue. I be guessing she wanted a change of instead of a dinner with a band and dancing, she'd opt for an afternoon of getting us out in the fresh air with things to do, like for the ladies, there was a tour of a place that makes their own jellies, for the guys, clay pigeon shooting, for everyone tours of the lake on a mini yacht, and all afternoon luncheon foods galore, all you could stuff in your piehole. There were activities for the wee ones, pony riding on the trails, paintball fun and games next to the closed tennis court, and generally, all-day babysitting so the parents could enjoy themselves.
I thought she had thought of everything. Yes, I did, until our senior vice president of the company brought out his drone. He had one of those expensive models, an Inspire 2 Quadcopter with Cinema DNG, for a pricey $6,000 R. Linda! It has super capability of high tech clarity when recording images from above. It is his pride and joy, a Christmas present from his socialite wife! How fortunate, you might say, for him. Well, it was while it lasted. Oh, but I get ahead of meself. Let me take you to the afternoon entertainment.
That weekend, we had the January thaw, where the weather climbed from 12 degrees below to a balmy 60 F. Everything was melting, making quite a river of water all over the place. The drive up to the lake was not without its frustrations. The rivers had overflowed with ice jams and spread out onto the roads, becoming fast-running rivers. Many detours, but we all seemed to make it to Cruella's with no real problems. Getting back? Not so much, but that's a story for another time.
We had got the younger kiddos into a game of paintball and dropped the eldest off at the pony barn because he saw a friend of his, and they had opted for a woodland trail ride. Tonya and I went to the harbour for the lake tour, returning later to find that the kiddos had switched activities and were happily romping in the back of the house in a game of tag. I opted for the banquet table while Tonya had a nibble and went off with Maureen for the jelly-making. I was talked into skeet shooting by Patrick and Ms. Jaio, of all people. Here is where things got interesting.
Six men were already shooting, and we were chatting, awaiting our turns, when the big VP came out of the house with his drone and a few cronies. They were just below us, and Ms. Jaio instantly recognised (being a connoisseur of drones, of which she has a $250 model herself) the VP's new toy. Next, I found us standing with the cronies, listening to our VP explain the great feats his drone was capable of.
It was around that time Patrick was called his turn at shooting clay pigeons, and off he went while Ms. Jaio and I oohed and ahhed over the drone. The controls for the thing looked complicated to me but not to Ms. Jaio; she was all about what it could do, and the VP was quite impressed with her knowledge. Well, he started the thing up, and on his laptop, we could see the images the drone was transmitting as it slowly went up above the roof of the house (a three-storied affair). With quiet precision, it started down the hillside, and the images coming back picked up the pony ride on one of the trails. The kiddos and ponies were utterly unaware of the thing because it was pretty much silent. Then he careened it back up the hill and over the house so we could see the luncheon in full swing, up towards the tennis court where there were now adults playing paintball, and around towards us with our faces looking up as he brought the thing down to rest gently on the winter lawn.
Impressive? You betcha! It was so remarkable that Ms. Jaio was salivating over it. Her drippy mess excited the enthusiasm of the VP, who gave her the controls and told her to have a go. I've never seen Ms. Jaio smile like she did, from ear to ear and up her nose. She was in drone heaven! She was very adept at the controls; she had the drone higher than the VP, and she had it faster than the VP, and she had it whizz this way and that, and we were treated to a view of the surrounding real estate and even followed a car down the road as it made its way to the harbour.
I was asked if I wanted a turn, and well, of course, I couldn't let the opportunity pass; it all looked so easy.
After a bumpy start, I got the hang of it, but I had trouble controlling it. It reminded me of the small drone I had brought Guido for his birthday that his mother drove into the pine tree tops, never to be seen again. As that realisation struck, I got shakier with the expensive drone, realising THAT and who it belonged to. I said I would bring it down and let someone else have a turn, but as I did, it flew slightly to the left of the skeet shooters when suddenly there was a shot and the drone scattered into a thousand pieces out of the sky. A great shout went up from the skeet shooters with men pounding Patrick on the back that he "shot into smithereens whatever that was up there."
I stood as still as a statue watching this, me heart sinking to me stomach (an extraordinary feeling), me eyes wide open, and me mouth. We of the drone patrol just stood there in shocked silence, not able to speak, not able to move, but near tears! Well, Ms. Jaio was in tears. $6,000 blasted out of the sky with ME at the controls, no less! Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph!
I utter the word, "bejaysus" and gulped as I willed meself to look at the VP. The heat in his face was rising, turning red with anger that was clear to yours truly. He lifted his hand and placed it on me upper arm and through pursed lips he said, "Not your fault, Gabriel, you weren't near the skeets. The idiot who shot it down shot in our direction instead of the one he was supposed to. He did it on purpose, it looked."
Uh oh. Patrick, I thought, oh me God, Patrick, did you do that on purpose? Even worse, I thought I might have been too close to the skeet shooters, but the VP said not, and it was true; I could see it in slow-mo, Patrick turning at someone urging to bring down the UFO. I had the drone behind the shooters; I remembered vaguely two men turning and looking up, one pointing, someone saying something about "spying", and the other laughing. Patrick was loading up his rifle, and one of the men nudged him and pointed up; someone said something to Patrick, and with infuriating slowness, he lifted the gun in the direction of the drone and then BLAM! I could still see all the pieces of the drone scattering skyward and earthward, coming down in a shower in the woods to me left. I could feel that heart sinking feeling all over again and see the anger on the VP's face.
Would Patrick have a job after this? I was feeling guilty, though the VP and his cronies were right. I was never over the skeet field, but really? It was that I was at the controls. I thought to meself that Ms Jaio would never have allowed that; she'd have been quick to pick up on the rifle turning in our direction, and she would have whizzed that drone off in record time, probably bringing it back to clunk Patrick and instigators upside the head! But no, we are talking ME at the controls, slow-witted to react to something I wasn't sure I was seeing at first, but when it sank in . . . too fecking late!
Well, we did try to pick up the pieces, of which there were millions, as the VP and one crony walked with ill-purpose toward Patrick and the skeet shooters. We were picking up the debris field, and they were shouting and waving arms around. We of the debris field slowly drifted back inside and watched from the safety of the windows the argy-bargy going on. Patrick shouted, "I taught it were a pheasant!" And I thought that was a stupid idea. The thing wasn't as big or colourful as a pheasant. "Maibe a smulla burd lik a grous," Ms. Jaio whispered. Yes, a grouse would have been more like it or even a large starling, something smaller, Patrick. I tried to send extrasensory messages his way.
Well, the gist of this sad but bizarre tale is that Patrick still has his job and will pay the VP $4000 for the drone he destroyed. The other two who told him to do it will owe the VP $1000 each to make up the cost of a new one. As for me, I was patted on the back and told everything was settled; it wasn't me fault, blah, blah, blah. Which be a good thing because it wasn't really. Even Patrick reassured me the drone was to the left back over his shoulder, not in the skeet field. I want to tell the VP that it was a dumb move on his part to fly the thing on the side of the house where they were shooting clay pigeons. Even dumber was me at the controls. Anyway, that was me eventful and guilt-filled time at the annual Cruella shindig. After the drone affair at me own house, and now this, I doubt very much I will be investing in one or trying out someone else's. Patrick keeps a low profile and is working his tail off to pay the VP back. And poor Ms. Jaio, she hasn't been right ever since. She even made a small shrine in her cubicle with a picture of the Inspire 2 Quadcopter with Cinema DNG. It was up for about an hour before Cruella came over and asked me what that smell was she was smelling. I had sniffed the air, and yes, I had been aware of the odour. The only thing I knew full well was that it was Chinese incense that Ms. Jaio had been burning at her drone altar. Well, Cruella did short work of that, and the whole memorial was gone, but every time there was mention of a drone, Ms Jaio lost it, and the tears flowed. I have tried being sympathetic, but Cruella does her Cher impression any time Ms. Jaio starts to tear up, "Get over it!" she throws at her, and what choice has Ms. Jaio but to smarten up until Cruella's back is turned. Then she sits as if in a stupor, tears in her eyes. You'd think it was HER drone that was blasted to smithereens. Geez, techie types, I'll never understand them.
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
ROFLMAO that is too funny! I think you were being shown how the 1 per centers live. Eat your heart out worker bee! The image of your face and exploding drone? PRICELESS!
ReplyDeleteIt must have been. I can still see it exploding. The stuff of nightmares.
DeleteDid you see dollar bills flying away?
DeleteI saw me life floating away
DeleteSTILL LAUGHING!
ReplyDeleteO M G! That IS funny and I am sorry to laugh, but whoa! I feel bad for your coworker who shot the drone, but he avoided a court date by paying up I think? I have to tell you New York City is quite the place when the snow is falling. We get nothing like your snowfall (thank the fates for that), but it is a gem of a place when snowflakes float by, much like your life must have when you realised what had happened to your bosses drone, LMAO.
ReplyDeleteThanks for all that!
Deletelololololol poor you! how embarrassing for everyone lol.
ReplyDeleteon a more sober note: RIP Dolores!